The Novice (8 page)

Remembering the months she had spent playing and practicing magic, she smiled grimly. He still had a long way to go. She stepped back and regarded the door. Could she combat his magic? Probably, but she might destroy the door. She turned to the kitchen woman.

“There must be another way out of here. Would you show me out?”

The woman hesitated. Her expression held no sympathy anymore, just suspicion. The sick feeling inside Sonea turned into anger.

“Well?” she snapped.

The woman’s eyes widened, then her gaze dropped to the floor.

“Yes, my lady. Follow me.”

Gesturing for Sonea to follow, the woman wove her way through the benches. The kitchen servants stared at Sonea as she passed, but she kept her eyes on the woman’s back. They entered a storeroom even larger than the kitchen, filled with shelves stacked high with food and utensils. At the far end of the storeroom, the woman stopped at another door, opened it and gestured wordlessly at the corridor beyond.

“Thank you,” Sonea said, then stepped out of the room. The door closed firmly behind her. She looked up and down the corridor. It was unfamiliar, but it had to lead somewhere. She sighed, shook her head and started walking.

Evenings in the Night Room were not as interesting as they used to be, Rothen mused. Where once he had half dreaded attending the weekly social gathering for the rush of questions he was subjected to about the mysterious slum girl, now he found himself ignored.

“That Elyne girl will need watching,” a female voice said from across the room. “From what Lady Kinla said, it won’t be long before
she
needs a private talk with a Healer.”

The reply was inaudible.

“Bina? Perhaps. Or do you mean…? No. Who would want to? Leave it to Rothen.”

Hearing his name, Rothen searched for the speakers. He found two young Healer women standing by a window nearby. One glanced up and, seeing him watching, blushed and looked away.

“There’s something strange about her. It’s something…” Recognizing this new voice, Rothen felt a thrill of triumph. The speaker was Lord Elben, one of Sonea’s teachers. Louder, closer conversations in the room threatened to overwhelm the voice, but Rothen closed his eyes and concentrated as Dannyl had taught him to.

“She doesn’t fit in,” a wavering voice replied. “But who really expected her to?”

Rothen frowned. The second speaker was the history teacher for the First Year novices.

“It’s more than that, Skoran,” Elben insisted. “She’s too quiet. She doesn’t even talk to the other novices.”

“They don’t like her much, either, do they?”

A wry laugh. “No, who can blame them?”

“Think of Lord Rothen,” Skoran said. “The poor man. Do you think he knew what he was getting into? I wouldn’t want her coming back to my rooms every night. Garrel was telling me that she spun some tale about knifing a man when she lived in the slums. I wouldn’t want a little murderess lurking around
my
rooms while I was asleep.”

“Charming! I hope Rothen keeps his door locked during the night, in that case.”

The voices faded as the pair moved away. Rothen opened his eyes again and looked down at his glass of wine. Dannyl had been right. This chair was in a good position for listening to other magicians’ conversations. Dannyl had always said that the regular Night Room attendees were too eager to express their opinions to check who might be listening, and much could be learned from them.

Unlike Dannyl, however, Rothen felt uncomfortable spying on his fellow magicians. He rose and located Skoran and Elben. Forcing a polite smile, he approached the pair.

“Good evening, Lord Elben,” he said, inclining his head in greeting. “Lord Skoran.”

“Lord Rothen,” they replied, nodding politely in return.

“I just came to ask how my little thief is going?”

The two teachers paused, their faces blank with surprise, then Elben laughed nervously.

“She’s doing well,” he said. “In fact she’s doing rather better than I expected. She learns fast and her control over her powers is quite…advanced.”

“She had many months in which to practice, and we haven’t really tested her strength yet,” Skoran added.

Rothen smiled. Few had believed him when he had described how strong Sonea was, despite knowing that a magician had to be strong for their powers to surface of their own accord.

“I look forward to hearing your opinion when you do test her,” he said, stepping away.

“Before you go,” Skoran lifted a wrinkled hand, “I’d like to know how well my grandson, Urlan, is progressing in chemistry.”

“Well enough.” Rothen turned back to face the magician. As he was drawn into a discussion about the boy, he made a mental note to ask Sonea how well the teachers had been treating her. Not liking a novice was never a good excuse for neglecting their training.

Pausing at the bottom of the University stairs, Administrator Lorlen regarded the night-shrouded Guild. To his right lay the Healers’ Quarters, a round two-story building standing behind tall trees within the gardens. Before it ran the road to the Servants’ Quarters, winding into a dark arm of the forest that surrounded the grounds. Directly before him lay a wide, circular road that curved between the University and the gates. Stables lay to the left of this, and then another arm of the forest.

Lurking between the edge of this forest and the other side of the gardens was the High Lord’s Residence. The gray stone building did not glow in the moonlight like the other, white Guild structures, but was a ghostly presence at the forest edge. It was the only building other than the Guildhall that had survived from the beginnings of the Guild’s formation. For over seven centuries it had accommodated the most powerful magician of each generation. Lorlen had no doubt that the man living there now was one of the strongest magicians it had ever housed.

Taking a deep breath, he started down the path to its door.

For now, forget all that,
he told himself.
He is your old friend, the Akkarin you know well. We will talk about politics, our families, and Guild matters. You’ll try to persuade him to visit the Night Room, and he’ll decline.

Lorlen straightened his shoulders as he reached the residence. As always, the door opened at his knock. Stepping inside, Lorlen felt a twinge of relief as neither Akkarin nor his servant stepped forward to greet him.

He sat down and considered the guestroom. Originally, it had been an entry hall with a well-worn staircase on either side. Guestrooms had become a common feature of homes centuries after the time of the residence’s construction, so previous High Lords had entertained in one of the inner rooms instead. Akkarin had modernized the building by arranging for walls to be constructed to conceal the two staircases. By filling the space between them with comfortable furniture and warm carpets, he’d created a pleasant, if narrow, guestroom.

“What’s this?” a familiar voice said. “An unexpected visitor.”

Turning, Lorlen managed to smile at the black-robed man standing in the doorway to the stairs.

“Good evening, Akkarin.”

The High Lord smiled and, after closing the door behind him, moved to a narrow cabinet holding a store of wine and a selection of glasses and silverware. He opened a bottle and filled two glasses, choosing the very wine that Lorlen had decided not to buy the previous day.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Lorlen. It has been a while.”

Lorlen lifted his shoulders. “Our little family has been a handful of late.”

Akkarin chuckled at Lorlen’s use of their pet name for the Guild. He handed Lorlen a wineglass, then sat down. “Ah, but they keep you occupied, and you get to reward them for good behavior now and then. Lord Dannyl was an interesting choice for the Second Guild Ambassador for Elyne.”

Lorlen felt his heart skip a beat. He masked his alarm with a frown of concern. “Not one you would have made?”

“He is an excellent man for the role. He showed initiative and boldness by seeking and negotiating with the Thieves.”

Lorlen lifted an eyebrow. “He should have consulted us first, however.”

Akkarin waved a hand dismissively. “The Higher Magicians would have argued about it for weeks, then made the safest decision—and they would have made the wrong one. That Dannyl could see that, and risked the disapproval of his peers for the sake of finding her, shows that he is not easily cowed by authority when its methods are contrary to the good of others. He will need that confidence when dealing with the Elyne court. I was surprised you didn’t ask my opinion, but I’m sure you knew that I’d approve of your decision.”

“What news do you have for me?” Lorlen asked.

“Nothing exciting. The King asked me if the ‘little rogue,’ as he calls Sonea, had been included in the summer intake. I told him she had, and he was pleased. That reminds me of another amusing incident: Nefin of House Maron asked if Fergun could come back to Imardin now.”

“Again?”

“This is the first time Nefin has asked. The last one to ask was Ganen, about three weeks ago. It seems every man and woman in House Maron intends to approach me about this. I’ve even had children ask me when they’ll see uncle Fergun again.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“That uncle Fergun had done a bad, bad thing, but not to worry, as the nice men at the Fort would make sure he was well looked after for all the years he stayed there.”

Lorlen laughed. “I meant, what did you tell Nefin?”

“Precisely the same. Well, not in exactly the same words, of course.” Akkarin sighed and smoothed his hair. “Not only do they give me the satisfaction of refusing, but I’ve had no marriage proposals from House Maron since Fergun departed. That is an even better reason to keep the man tucked away in the Fort.”

Lorlen took a sip of wine. He had always assumed Akkarin was uninterested in the frivolous women of the Houses, and would eventually find a wife among the women of the Guild. But now he wondered if Akkarin had resolved to remain a bachelor to protect his dark secret.

“Both House Arran and House Korin have asked if we can spare Healers to tend their racehorses,” Akkarin said.

Lorlen gave a sigh of exasperation. “You told them we can’t, of course?”

Akkarin shrugged. “I told them I’d think about it. There may be a way we can turn such a request to our advantage.”

“But we need every Healer we have.”

“True, but both Houses are inclined to hoard their daughters, as if they, too, were more valuable for breeding than anything else. If they could be persuaded to let the girls who have talent join us, we would eventually have more than enough Healers to replace those who leave to tend the horses.”

“In the meantime, we have fewer Healers and must expend more of our existing Healers’ time training the new girls,” Lorlen argued. “And those girls might not choose to become Healers when they graduate.”

Akkarin nodded. “Then it is a question of balance. We must gain enough girls to ensure we eventually make up for the Healers we send to tend the horses. Ultimately, we’ll have more Healers to call upon if there should be a disaster, such as a fire or riot.” Akkarin tapped the arm of his chair with his long fingers. “There is another advantage. Lord Tepo spoke to me a few months ago about wishing to expand our knowledge of animal healing. He spoke quite persuasively. This might be a means for him to start his studies in the field.”

Lorlen shook his head. “It sounds like a waste of Healers’ time to me.”

Akkarin frowned. “I will discuss both ideas with Lady Vinara.” He looked up at Lorlen. “Do you have any news for me?”

“I do,” Lorlen said. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Terrible news. News that will disturb many in the Guild, but will affect you personally most of all.”

“Oh?” Akkarin’s gaze sharpened.

“Do you have any more of that wine you’re drinking?”

“It is the last bottle.”

“Oh dear.” Lorlen shook his head. “Then the situation is worse than I thought. I’m afraid that’s the last of it. I chose not to renew our supplies. After today, no more Anuren dark for the High Lord.”

“That’s
your news?”

“Terrible, isn’t it?” Lorlen turned to regard his friend. “Are you displeased?”

Akkarin snorted. “Of course! Why didn’t you order any more?”

“They wanted twenty gold a bottle.”

“A
bottle!
” Akkarin leaned back in his chair and whistled. “Another good decision, though this time you should have mentioned it to me first. I could have said a few words here and there in court…well, I still can.”

“So I’ll expect a more reasonable offer to arrive on my desk in the next few weeks?”

Akkarin smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

They sat in silence for a moment, then Lorlen drained his glass and rose. “I should move on to the Night Room. Are you coming?”

Akkarin’s expression darkened. “No, I have someone to meet in the city.” He looked up at Lorlen. “It was good to see you again. Come by more often. I don’t want to have to arrange meetings with you just to find out Guild gossip.”

“I’ll try.” Lorlen managed a smile. “Perhaps you should visit the Night Room more often. You might hear some gossip yourself.”

The High Lord shook his head. “They’re all too careful when I am around. Besides, my interests lie outside the confines of the Guild. I’ll leave our family scandals to you.”

Placing his wineglass on the table, Lorlen moved to the door, which opened silently. He glanced back to see Akkarin sipping wine contentedly.

“Good night,” he said.

Akkarin lifted his glass in reply. “Enjoy yourself.”

As the door closed behind him, Lorlen drew in a deep breath, then started walking. Thinking back, he reviewed what had been said. Akkarin had expressed only approval of Dannyl’s appointment—which was ironic, considering. The rest of the conversation had been relaxed and unremarkable; it was easy to forget the truth at those times. But Lorlen was always amazed how Akkarin managed to allude to his secret activities during their conversations.
“My interests lie outside the confines of the Guild.”
That was putting it mildly.